


The delicate matter of hair and beard

by flamyshine



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamyshine/pseuds/flamyshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kíli and Dwalin have an important quest of their own. (Movie backstory: What did Kíli and Dwalin talk about when Dwalin welcomed Kíli so heartwarmingly in Bilbo's hole and Kíli addressed him as 'Mister Dwalin' with a smile?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The delicate matter of hair and beard

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Hobbit story. Hi, new fandom :)

Dwalin munched on another apple as he waited for the rest of the company to arrive. It seemed like hobbits knew how to build a hole in the nature; the evening breeze was rolling into the dining room through an open window and it made him appreciate the generosity of Mother Nature.

“It’s not getting too cold up there? Should I close the window?” Balin asked with a teasing smile as he gestured at his brother’s bald head.

“My head has seen many difficult weathers as you know.” Dwalin grunted. “A light breeze isn’t going to do me any harm.”

He was aware that his brother had no intention of upsetting him, but he found himself digging his teeth hard into the apple. His lack of hair wasn’t a problem on most days. But sometimes when he saw Kíli braid Fíli’s hair or when the wind gave Thorin’s hair a majestic touch, he missed the days when he too had large fistfuls of hair.

“What’s taking everyone so long? It’s not a difficult hole to find.” He glanced outside the window to see if anyone was headed this way.

He was actually waiting for a particular one out of the eleven dwarves. Due to busy preparations for the journey, it had been a while since he had spoken to Kíli who had been helping him grow his hair back. In return, he had been trying to help the young prince grow his beard faster. As far as he could tell, they weren’t having any success but he knew from experience that all good things came with patience.

_Knock-knock._

He saw the hobbit hurry to the door and soon heard Kíli address Burglar Baggins as Mister ‘Boggins.’

“May strength of memory comes to him along with a fine beard.” He prayed quietly, making Balin laugh, as he got up from his chair. “Time to go pay my respects to the heirs of Durin.”

The dwarf passed the hall and headed to the door with a smile. He had had the honor of seeing Kíli and Fíli grow up into fine dwarves and training them to become useful warriors. They might be the king’s nephews but he considered them almost as his own.

“Fíli, Kíli, come on. Give us a hug.” He threw his arm merrily around the younger one’s shoulders. He had greeted his own brother with a friendly head-butt, but the young ones didn’t yet have heads that could endure that kind of pressure.

“Mister Dwalin.” Kíli beamed as he was led to the dining room where Balin was waiting for him with a kind smile. While he and Fíli already had an uncle in Thorin, they thought of Balin and Dwalin as their second uncles.

“How have you been, lad?” Dwalin patted the chair right next to his on the other side of Balin and poured him some ale.

Kíli took a swig before pointing at his short beard. “It’s coming, but a little too slowly. I tug on it every morning and every night just like you told me to, but I don’t think it’s working. All those herbs and spells aren’t doing much good either.”

His shoulders slumped as he poured more ale down his throat. Dwalin’s large hand came down on his back a couple of times. He imagined that it was supposed to be soothing, but it actually hurt a little.

“Patience, Kíli. Your chin is young and will see many hairy days.”

“But Fíli had a longer beard when he was seventy-seven!” He knew that he sounded childish but he couldn’t resist pointing it out. Even though looks weren’t everything, he yearned to look like a respectable dwarf. He wanted lasses or lads –he wasn’t picky- to notice his beard and ask him if they could braid it in the early mornings.

“The best things always come last. I only grew a beard when I was eighty nine, and look how thick and strong it is now. You still have time.” Dwalin patted his favorite dwarf on the back again. It was a lie since he had enjoyed a full beard since the age of seventy two, but he wanted to lift the lad’s spirits. Surely the prince would see much progress in twelve years.

“Very well. I’ll try to be patient. What about you?”

Kíli stood up and looked around before checking Dwalin’s scalp. Bilbo and Balin were busy talking to the other dwarves that had just collapsed through the door. But no matter how hard he looked, there didn’t seem to be anything new on Dwalin’s head. “Oh…” 

“Ah, don’t worry. Nothing we haven’t foreseen.” Dwalin swayed his hand. He didn’t want his friend to feel bad for him. “So those herbs that smell like pony dung were no good.”

“Maybe we need more time. Or maybe they just have to be stronger.” Kíli tried to sound hopeful.

“Kíli, if I rub stronger herbs on my head, even the ponies wouldn’t come near me. You have to draw a line somewhere.” Dwalin downed more ale in frustration.

“I did get an idea that we might be able to try…” Kíli suggested weakly as he knew that it wouldn’t be welcomed. “Perhaps if we could get some of the oil those elves use for hair. From what I’ve heard, they seem to have such healthy, shiny hair.”

“Elves?” Dwalin struck the table with his fist. “You’re lucky the king isn’t here yet. I’ll cut off my own beard before asking for their help. Those tall, rotten elves.”

Kíli shrugged and made a gesture of sewing his mouth. He thought that the bald look couldn’t have worked any better on a dwarf than on Dwalin, but he wanted to help him as much as he could.

 

A few days after they had left Bag End with their newest addition to the company, Kíli saw an opportunity. Out of nowhere, Radagast, the Brown Wizard, had appeared in front of them, looking for Gandalf. Much to his disappointment, Gandalf hadn’t been able to provide them with useful magic (But hadn’t he killed hundreds of dragons?), but he had recommended his good friend, Radagast. So after the wizards had discussed an important matter about a forest, he pulled Radagast aside and asked for his help.

Moments later, the wizard was knocking on Dwalin’s scalp to assess the situation. “Hmm, very hard. Very hard, indeed. I didn’t know dwarves could have such hard heads. It has to be harder than a tankard or that shield your leader carries around.”

Kíli couldn’t resist sniggering at the comment.

“It’s also very barren. No life on the horizon. No life at all.” Radagast clicked his tongue in sympathy. He gave the bald head a few more knocks here and there while Dwalin did his best not to swat away the intruding hand.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to struggle for long since the wizard called the hedgehog that was nuzzling Kíli’s boot. “Sebastian, come on! We have a dwarf to heal.”

As Radagast put him on the lifeless surface, Sebastian understood what his job was and rolled all over the head. His spines would provide enough pressure while doing no damage to the scalp.

“Does it hurt?” Kíli winced. It looked like it would hurt even for a seasoned warrior.

“It tickles.” Dwalin scratched the spot where the hedgehog had just left.

The patient’s answer seemed to have alarmed the wizard as he ordered Sebastian to give him his very best. That was when they heard a rustling sound coming from the bushes.

“What’s going on here?” Fíli’s head popped out of the bushes. “I’ve been looking for you, brother.”

Dwalin was quick to get the hedgehog off his head and hide him behind his back. He didn’t want anyone else to know what he and Kíli were up to.

“Oh, I was just asking the great wizard if there was a way to grow my beard faster.” Kíli was relieved that he wasn’t lying. He would’ve hated to lie to his own brother who would’ve known that he was lying anyway. Simply omitting certain parts of the truth wasn’t lying, was it? Fíli already knew how he wished that his beard would grow faster.

“So, is there?” Fíli’s eyes twinkled with hope. No matter how many times he had told his brother that he looked fine, Kíli asked him every morning if his beard looked longer.

“You came just in time. We were about to get some work done.” Radagast took the hedgehog from Dwalin and gave him to Kíli. “Hold him in front of your chin. That’s it.”

“Do you want me to hold him for you?” Fíli teased with a grin as he saw his brother handle the hedgehog as if it was a cactus.

“No, it’s just a hedgehog. I’ve got this.” Kíli answered bravely. He wasn’t going to look weak in the eyes of Dwalin and his brother. He shut his eyes tight, bracing himself for the sting, but all he could feel was the hedgehog rubbing his tiny face against his chin.

“Sebastian! Where are your manners? I told you to heal, not to court!” The wizard tried to talk some sense into him, but the hedgehog pretended that he couldn’t hear anything. He was perfectly happy with what he was doing.

Fíli and Dwalin shook with laughter as Radagast explained to Sebastian that Kíli was from the line of Durin, not to mention that he wasn’t a hedgehog of any kind, and therefore was clearly out of reach.

“There you are. Come on. It’s time to leave.” Thorin walked out of the bushes, looking at his nephews and his best warrior.

Kíli nodded and followed Fíli back to where the company was resting as he listened to the wizard frantically give Dwalin a few tips that might be helpful. He could use some tips too but Dwalin’s problem seemed bigger than his, so he just blew a kiss to the hedgehog and tugged hard at his brother’s beard.

“Ow!!”

“That’s for laughing at me.” Kíli stuck out his tongue and ran to his uncle to avoid any kind of revenge. Perhaps there was a good reason why his beard was coming late.

 

When Kíli learned that they were going to visit the elves, he thought that the Almighty Mahal wanted Dwalin to grow his hair back. It was fate! It had to be! They were destined to go to Rivendell so that he could secretly ask an elf to borrow their hair oil! (Unfortunately elves didn’t seem to have beards, so he would have to stay out of this one.) Painfully aware of how much the company distrusted the elves, especially his uncle, he tried his best not to hum merrily and kept his excitement to himself.

“Don’t even think about it.” Dwalin warned him as they sat next to each other at the table.

“Don’t worry. Uncle’s never going to find out. I didn’t even tell Fíli.” Kíli whispered so that his brother who was sitting right next to him wouldn’t hear his words. He seemed to be too busy teasing poor Ori with green food anyway.

“No, Kíli. I told you there’s a line I will not cross. This is my line: pony dung and elves.”

“But this is our best chance! Look at that elf over there.” Kíli pointed at a male elf who was watching him from a corner. “I don’t know what he wants, but we want his hair. If wigs didn’t itch so much, I could’ve cut off his hair for you.”

Dwalin glanced at the elf in question. Despite the blatant look from both of them, the elf was still looking at Kíli. While the look was full of curiosity and appreciation, he didn’t like how it was targeted at their young prince. “It’s one thing to be courted by a hedgehog and quite another to be courted by an elf. Watch yourself, Kíli. Never trust an elf.”

“I think I just found the right one to ask a favor.” Kíli gave the elf a wink as he got up. “I’ll be right back.”

“Kíli!” Dwalin thought about going after him but Fíli, Ori, and Dori were all looking at him with a worried face. Not wanting to raise any questions, he was forced to improvise. “Eh, the lad just drank too much.”

Meanwhile Kíli was following the elf out of the dwarves’ sight, hoping that he wasn’t walking into a trap. The elf had agreed to give him a phial of hair oil a little too easily. Keeping his right hand on the dagger on his hip, he walked into a chamber that was decorated luxuriously.

“I’m a prince as well.” Legolas smiled as he opened a cupboard full of phials. He could tell that the pretty dwarf was a member of the royal family by the way the other dwarves protected him and offered him the best food. “But this is a guest chamber, not mine. I live in Mirkwood.”

Kíli didn’t need such personal information from the elf but nodded politely. He had only winked at him to gain access to the hair oil.

“Here you go.” Legolas put the phial of hair-restoring oil in the large palm of the dwarf prince. He made sure that his hand lingered for a short while before pulling it away. “May I have an arrow of yours in return?”

“You want my arrow?” Kíli was surprised. “But you seem to have plenty of them.”

It was only then that he realized that perhaps arrows worked as a souvenir in the elven world. “Very well. But you’ll have to give me one of yours too because I don’t want to be one arrow short.”

“I’ll give you two since you say I have plenty of them.” Legolas pulled out two arrows from his quiver that was hanging on the wall before kissing them each.

Kíli smiled awkwardly as the elf kept his eyes on him the whole time. Dwalin was right; one would have to watch his back around these elves. They had no shame! Surely a wink and a kiss were two different things.

He handed over one of his arrows and muttered a thank you before turning around and shoving his souvenirs deep inside his quiver. If the oil didn’t work, he would have no choice but to join his uncle on the elf-cursing bandwagon.

 

“I said no, Kíli.” Dwalin folded his arms with a stern look on his face. “Who knows what elven oil will do to me? It could rot me from the insides.”

“Oh, come on. I had to do terrible things with an elf to get this for you. He liked me. He wouldn’t have given me poison. And, who keeps poison in a cupboard anyway? It was right there in the middle!”

Dwalin let out a groan. When he had walked away from the company to get some quiet time behind the bushes, this wasn’t what he had had in mind.

“If you don’t trust me, I’ll use it on my chin first.” Kíli opened the phial and poured some on his chin.

“Don’t!” Dwalin didn’t even get a chance to stop him. He cursed under his breath at his inability to keep the prince safe.

“Accck… Mister Dwalin… Help…”

Dwalin’s eyes almost popped out of his skull as Kíli grabbed his throat and dropped to the grass. “Kíli!!”

He rushed to the lad’s side and pushed his hands out of the way to check for a rash or any other disturbing signs.

“Wahaha… I can’t believe you fell for it!” Kíli rolled with laughter while Dwalin cracked his knuckles, trying not to end the prince’s life with his own hands. He could always blame the elves, and Thorin had another heir after all.

“See? I’m fine. It doesn’t even burn or anything. Now it’s your turn.” Kíli held out the phial but Dwalin just knelt there, glaring at him.

“I’m sorry. I just thought we could use a laugh.” Kíli smiled innocently and worked his puppy eyes. When he saw Dwalin’s glare lose a little bit of strength, he poured some oil on his fingers with a broader smile on his face. “Let me help you.”

“I don’t want that oil anywhere near me.” Dwalin didn’t know how to make himself any clearer.

“Just try it! What do you have to lose? Here, let me rub it nicely for you.”

Dwalin tried to get up but Kíli hooked his legs around his waist and spread the oil all over his scalp. He was about to push off the stubborn lad when he heard footsteps behind him.

Ori blinked at the unexpected scene in front of him. He had heard Dwalin shout Kíli’s name and had wanted to see if everything was all right. Then he had heard something about burning and rubbing which had left him confused.

“Oh, so that’s what all the hush-hush was about…” Ori was reminded of all the suspicious moments between the two dwarves since they had started the journey. “And, that’s what the oil was for…”

Then he realized how he was bothering the lovers and turned tomato-red. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt! Please keep going!” He turned around and ran back to his brothers as fast as he could.

“Ori! It’s not what you think!” Kíli unhooked his legs and shouted after him but Ori didn’t look back.

“Oh well, as long as he doesn’t talk to uncle…” He took a look at Dwalin’s scalp to see if the oil had properly soaked in.

Dwalin sighed and banged his head on the ground. He really hoped that he wouldn’t have to explain to the king why he had a phial of elven oil and why he was sleeping with his youngest nephew. “All this just for some hair…”

He ignored Kíli’s plea to stop and kept banging his head. That was until Kíli wrapped his arms around his neck to stop him. Of course, another dwarf had showed up at that very moment. That was just his luck.

“Oh, dear brother… Out of all the lads you could’ve chosen…” Balin found himself unable to finish his words.

“It’s not what you think…” Kíli said weakly while Dwalin started digging himself a grave.

Balin gave Kíli a nod and let out a grave sigh. He couldn’t blame the young one. All the blame had to go to Dwalin. He turned around and left the scene with a heavy mind. He would have to keep a better eye on his brother and pray that he would soon come to his senses.

 

As one of the eldest members of the company, Balin liked to think that he had lived long enough to recognize a particularly good or bad day when he woke up in the morning. And, thanks to Mahal, today seemed to be the former.

He sat up on his bedroll and looked around the cave. It was still early and only a few of them had woken up. Bombur and Bofur were cooking breakfast near the mouth of the cave while Thorin and Gandalf were looking at a map, only a few dwarves away.

Balin ran his fingers through his beard while he tried to find the source of this good energy. Was it the cave? Had something changed in the air? Had Gandalf kindly used magic to relieve the company from its burden and physical aches? Or had he simply slept well?

He looked at his brother who was asleep by his side and pulled the blanket up to his chin. No matter how old Dwalin was, he would always be his little brother. He patted Dwalin on the head with a gentle smile and was about to pull his hand back when his palm made contact with something that didn’t belong to the owner of the head.

“By Durin’s beard!” He couldn’t help but gasp. Gasping should be above his age, but there were some things in Middle Earth that deserved a proper gasp.

“What’s the matter?” Thorin came to his old friend in the blink of an eye.

“Something’s going on, Thorin, on top of his head.” Balin pointed at Dwalin with a shaky finger.

“What is it? Is it a rash? Or is one of his scars reopening?” Thorin tilted his head. He thought that they had all healed a long time ago.

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. There’s life on it all of a sudden. I don’t understand how.” Balin pointed at the middle of his brother’s scalp where he had felt the presence of abrupt life.

Thorin leaned closer and took a good look. There was indeed a black spot that looked like the beginning of a hair. He observed it for several moments before facing his good friend. “Tell me, Balin, this has to be another good omen for us. A miracle, no matter how small it is, can only be positive.”

Balin nodded as he combed his beard with his fingers. “This is most definitely a miracle, my King. And, forgive me if I’m biased but it’s not even a small one. As you know, Dwalin lost his hair many, many winters ago.”

The two shared a big smile when Dwalin chose that moment to open his eyes in horror. He had apparently overslept after keeping watch long into the night. “We’re not dwarflings anymore. I trust that you didn’t draw anything on my face.” He studied both faces for hints of mischievousness as he rubbed his face to check for smudges.

As Thorin held up his hands and left, Balin laughed goodheartedly. “We didn’t have to, brother. Nature drew a spot on your head in our place.”

“What do you mean, nature drew a spot?” Dwalin sat up and grunted. He wasn’t awake enough to deal with his brother’s riddles.

“I mean that you seem to have sprouted a hair!” Balin informed him with great joy.

Dwalin looked at his brother to see if he was teasing him, but there was only pure joy and affection written on his face.

“Kíli!” He ran farther into the cave in search of the youngest prince. He didn’t care if he bumped into other dwarves on his way. If he had overslept, it was probably time for everyone to wake up. “Kíli!”

Kíli woke up and grabbed his sword instinctively. Dwalin never raised his voice unless there was danger nearby.

“Kíli, look!”

So he was very confused when Dwalin knelt down on one knee.

“Look at what? Are you injured? Is it your knee?” Kíli put his sword down and got out of his bedroll.

“No. You have the sharpest eyes, so tell me if there’s something new on my head.”

Kíli could hear Fíli chuckle but he ignored him. His brother wouldn’t understand. How could he? He had such perfect hair and beard.

“Let me take a look.” He rubbed his eyes and grabbed Dwalin’s head before focusing on the surface. “By Durin’s beard! There _is_ a new hair coming up! Something must’ve worked!”

Dwalin swallowed the joy like the great warrior he was and asked calmly. “Is there only one or more?” He couldn’t hide the hope in his voice.

Kíli let Fíli join the search as he desperately hoped that there would be another one on the rise. He believed that everything worked better as a pair just like Fíli and him.

“Ah, found another one!” Fíli cried out and Dwalin clenched his fists to keep his emotions under control.

“Hmm, no, Fíli. I don’t believe this is hair.” Kíli rubbed the tiny black spot with his index finger and saw it disappear.

“So? Is it hair or not?” Dwalin asked impatiently.

“Sorry, Mister Dwalin. I may have spoken in haste.” Fíli smiled apologetically as he scratched the back of his head.

Dwalin was patting the older prince on the arm to let him know that everything was well when Ori appeared with a spring in his step.

“Excuse me but I have orders for Fíli and Kíli! The king wants you to bring out the fiddles! He says it’s most important that we celebrate the wonderful miracle that Mahal has given us!” He opened his book in a hurry to make sure that he didn’t get the king’s words wrong.

“You mean the tiny bit of hair?” Kíli asked just to be sure.

“Of course! What else could he mean? May I have a look please?” As Dwalin was now back on his feet, Ori had to crane his neck to get a glimpse of the miracle that everyone was talking about.

Dwalin lowered his head so that the shorter dwarf could take a better look. But it soon turned out to be a mistake as other dwarves quickly surrounded him and pushed one another to get the best viewing spot.

Kíli laughed as Dwalin looked like he would rather be surrounded by filthy goblins. But he could see that despite feeling highly uncomfortable, Dwalin wasn’t pushing anyone away. They were on a dangerous and difficult journey, and hope was something that they could be grateful for. Nobody had to know about their trials and errors. It would be their own little secret.

“Kíli, come on. You heard uncle’s orders.” Fíli reminded his brother as he tuned his fiddle.

“This is going to be fun.” Kíli smiled and pulled out his fiddle before joining his brother at the mouth of the cave. He could never turn down an opportunity to play his beloved fiddle, and if it was to congratulate Dwalin and raise the spirits of their dwarves, then well, he had never really stood a chance.

 


End file.
